Home is where the fat is.

Yesterday was not one of my better days. In fact, it was probably one of the shittier days I’ve had in quite some time. I was exhausted all day having not slept more than a few hours the night before.

My bank account in dwindling into the oh shit! stage.

We are in the backslide of the busy season at work so 79% of my day I sit starting at a computer screen trying to look like I’m doing something (20% of the time I just don’t give a shit and the other 1% is spent actually working, counting down the minutes until 4:30.

Family drama is at an all time high (thankfully we are not directly involved) but, damn man, keep it in your chinos.

I’m dealing with this mother fuckin’ (say it in a Brooklyn accent, it’s better, I promise) UTI so I’m peeing 861 times a damn day.

Bowen succesfully managed to grab a Pyrex casserole dish off the counter. He licked it clean of chicken grease, fat and a rogue thigh waiting to be put to the trash. What ensued can only be described as barf-o-rama. Honestly, I don’t know how I’ll ever have children and be able to clean their puke, maybe God will give me a baby that doesn’t puke (ya.right.) I’ll just have to make sure I’m super drunk when they do puke (jokes people, jokes.)

After chasing Bowen out the backdoor screaming “pleasedon’tpukeonthecarpetpleasedon’tpukeonthecarpet bahhhhhhhhhhhhh Boweeeeennnnn nooooooooooooooopleasssssseeeeeeeenoooo” all I wanted to do was sit down. And eat. And eat and eat and eat.

What is it about stress and home that makes me want to eat things that go straight to my spare tire? I wanted a big bowl of ice cream and Ramen noodles (yaknow, since that is what most people want to ruin their diets for) and Cool Ranch Doritos.

I sat in front of the pantry for I shit you not, 15 minutes last night staring aimlessly at a bottle of Olive Oil (what the fuck?) When I realized a bag of Doritos was not in fact going to Harry Potter itself onto the shelf I turned my efforts to cleaning puke (bahhhhnooooooooo please Mommy, don’t make me.)

Thankfully, Bowen had eaten his Rachel Ray gourmet dog food (sorry Rach, may I call you that? he loves your food, really. I don’t feed it to him just because I had a $3.00 of coupon, I assure you) shortly before Barfathon 2009 commenced so it was all pretty solid and didn’t smell too too bad. Might I just say, the name of Rachel’s dog food is equally as annoying as her screechy man voice. Everytime I say the name it’s in her voice and ahhhhhhhhhhhh I need a hot poker to gouge my eyeballs with. Anyway, I scooped the barf up into a dust pan with the broom and dumped it in the toilet. The remainder of the liquid (barf!) was taken care of by my new Swiffer. I only pulled the “daddy-diaper” gag a few times (ya’ll know that one, right?)

After making sure Bowen was settled, I went up to lay in bed hoping my cravings for something delicious bad for me would go away. Last night was the first time since starting my diet that I’ve really struggled with cravings and the “maybeifIjustatealittlebit“s. I mean eating clean and healthly is all good and fine but, I’m pretty limited to what I can eat and I’m just getting damned bored. The thought crossed my mind last night, “am I really going to have to eat like this for the rest of my life?”

Shit that’s a boring life. It’s almost better to be fat and enjoy it.

I promptly decided that, no it is not worth it. If at the end of each week, I feel that I have done my part in contributing to the goal I am trying to attain, I will treat myself with something sinful. My current goal is Whataburger and that damned fancy ketchup (I would run away and marry Fancy Ketchup if I could, my name would be Mrs Fatty Face Fancy Ketchup.)

The cravings never happen to me away from home, what is it that makes me want to eat the bad stuff whilst I am there? The comfort? Privacy? Knowing it is in fact, my home so therefore I can do anything I want? That it is the site of the behavior that got me here in the first place?

When do you guys have the majority of your cravings and what are they for?

Oh and hey, if you are out and about today, pick up a copy of Jack Ingram’s new album, “Big Dreams & High Hopes” You can thank me later.

Oh and Jack? I would change my name from Mrs Fatty Face Fancy Ketchup to Mrs Fatty Face Ingram, just for you. *sigh* Jack is dreamy.

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3 Responses to “Home is where the fat is.”

I feel for you. I feel the same way about animal barf and I don’t know that I could ever have kids. And Missy who is the only one who ever barfs and it’s always because she’s gotten into something she shouldn’t have, always barfs on the carpet. I really need a mini steam cleaner, so I don’t have to lug my full size all over the place. That and she walks around and does it, there is never any fewer than 3 spots she leaves. BLECH!

Treats are good, they keep you sane and less likely to binge. After time, you wont even miss certain things. Somethings you’ll always have a taste for. I lost my taste for Whataburger, but not for Mexican food.

I think being at home makes us comfortable – we aren’t sucking in or wearing clothing that’s a little too tight… and then we head for the fridge or the pantry. Obviously you’ve already gotten rid of the bad stuff in your house, which is step #1! GREAT JOB! Because if it’s not there, you’re not going to eat it…

And I totally hear you on the money thing, the dog puke thing and pretty much everything else! Good for you for getting out and being active – it’s one step closer to your goal…

You’re going to laugh, but my favorite exercise is Jazzercise! HA HA HA! Although I leave the leotards at home…